Chapter Six —

"They are simply-created creatures, born out of an emotion that is the polar-opposite of love. Everything about them is dangerous, so do not be fooled. There is no weapon used, no spell chanted and produced, they hurt you with what you got—your fear."

At the front of the dim classroom, Professor Longbottom looked at the faces of the students with a controlled expression; watching some of them gulp in anticipation and others stare off into space without a single focus on the lesson.

"Different from Dementors, who rather feed off your every happy memories until you are paralyzed with complete fear, Boggarts use your fear to defeat you," the professor began again. "It is said that the only person to have been able to catch a glimpse of the true identity of a Boggart was Merlin himself. Although that can not be proven either, can it? But that is exactly what a Boggart does—it shows you your greatest fear. It transforms itself into that single thing that can cause your heart to stop, your senses to freeze. A way to repel..."

Like fading noise, Professor Longbottom was cut short as the girl seated at the furthest part of the classroom looked out the window; blinking her already writhing attention away from the professor and focusing on the traveling clouds outside.

She blinked slowly, her hand resting on her cheek and making it keep her chin up as her eyes drooped dangerously. She kept her silvery eyes focused on the evergreen grounds of Hogwarts, watching other students roam the grounds freely or others traveling in a class for their Care of Magical Creatures lesson. She blinked her eyelids once more and she moved her sleepy gaze over towards the goal posts of the Quidditch Pitch.

Despite her boredom and sleepy state, her heart gave a little ecstatic beat as she could see the field. She loved flying ever since she could remember, which was very early on. She had first picked up a broom when she was four, scaring her grandmother to an overly-dramatic scene when she was hovering yards off the ground. She couldn't help herself, she just felt this incredible sense of liberty when she felt the wind push her hair back. Like nothing was holding her back.

At least, that was until her idiot of a brother had caught up with her and chucked a quaffle at her head. (Oh, how he pretended he never saw her fall coming.)

"—Miss Malfoy."

Starling herself upright, the girl turned away from the scowling that had surged from the memory and snapped her eyes to the Professor; flushing a light pink as all eyes were on her. "Yes, Professor?"

Professor Longbottom frowned, lowering the stick of chalk that was used to write many facts about something she'd not been paying attention to on the blackboard. "I do hope you have been taking notes all this time. This will be on your final exams, and I am not going to repeat information."

"I...erm..." Ariana Malfoy looked down at her parchment, staring at the smooth paper lay there perfectly blank and grudgingly at her.

"The spell, Miss Malfoy, to rid a boggart is 'Riddikulus'. It won't get rid of a boggart entirely, but if it is weakened already it will destroy it. Did you write that in your notes or do you expect to have remembered it by memory after not paying attention?" The Professor asked sternly.

A round of laughter broke out in the classroom, some muttering a 'loser' disguised as a cough as Ariana held her tongue; not wanting to retort back at the teacher that she'd already been taught about boggarts by her mother when she was five. (No need to brag that she was already prepared for her O.W.L's even at such a young age.) "I'm sorry, Professor. I'll go to the library and research the subject."

Ding. Ding. Ding.

A loud bell rung throughout the castle, signaling the students that it was time to be dismissed from lessons and enjoy a bit of lunch before attending their next classes.

"Miss Malfoy, if you could stay for a moment, please. I've got something I would like to tell you."

Swallowing a curse, Ariana nodded her head politely and sat still on her desk obediently as she tossed her schoolbag on top of her desk annoyed.

"I said Miss Malfoy, Potter, not you," frowning at the dark-haired Slytherin that had not gathered up his stuff and walked out with his house-mates and Gryffindors, Professor Longbottom motioned the boy to exit the classroom. "Out, Mister Potter."

"But...I was going to ask you about—"Groaning in resignation from the glower he was getting, Albus gathered his schoolbag and tossed the strap over his shoulder. "Fine, fine, I'll leave. But for future reference, you are a horrible teacher."

"Is something the matter, Professor?" Ariana asked, both her and the teacher ignoring the comment as Al stomped out.

Eyes were narrowed at her carefully. "I don't know, Miss Malfoy, you tell me."

"I was a bit distracted today," the girl responded, pushing her caramel-colored hair back behind her hears. "But I promise I'll have my parchment filled with notes by next lesson."

"I don't care about the notes, Miss Malfoy," the professor sighed, rolling her eyes at the young Gryffindor. "You are very bright, and I know for a fact that you have all of this material down. I'm not going to give you special privileges because of it, mind you, but you are required to add some attention into the lessons."

Ariana looked at the woman, completely silent.

"I'm worried for you. You just seem so...isolated and I—"

"Thank you for the reminder, Professor," the Third Year cut in, closing her schoolbag roughly as the woman blinked in surprise. "I will keep in mind to pay attention, so, please, forgive me for my disrespect. Same time tomorrow, then?"

The woman nodded, her brown hair swaying to her sides as she looked at the girl. "Goodbye, Ariana."

Breathing in to control her anger, Ariana looked back at her teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts; and a family friend. "Goodbye, Hannah."

"What did Hannah want?" As the Gryffindor exited the room, she was met with eager emerald eyes waiting for her outside the door. "I hope you didn't tell her about the mandrake Scorpius and I knicked from her husband. We're using it for Alice's protection, you know? Nothing serious, we're just getting a bloke off of her back. Not that Neville will mind, Lysander Thomas is a thickhead when he wants to be."

Raising her eyebrow, Ariana stopped as Al gripped the strap of her schoolbag when he was going on with his rambling about the two Longbottom professors and their daughter. "Don't worry, Hannah isn't aware of your future prank. Although, if you idiots hurt Lysander severely I won't hesitate to turn you in. He is an excellent bloke and he really does likes Alice."

Al raised an eyebrow, about to reply but the Gryffindor kept going.

"You know the only reason why you trolls are going after him is because Dash Finnegan fancies her too. And what sort of mates would you be if you didn't back up your friend, right?"

But not really paying attention to her accusing tone, Al asked, "how do you know that?" in a soft voice. His eyes connecting to hers as other students past them, none of them actually important or visible as his emerald orbs met her liquidize metal. "...About the feelings?"

The girl looked at him, allowing the Slytherin to pierce her vision with his illuminating gaze. She felt the strangest pull inside of her chest, almost as if her heart started beating a different rhythm. Something that was more tingly than what she had ever felt, more pressuring surges than before, more terrifying than it has ever been.

"...Ariana?" Al Potter called, his hand sliding away from the strap of her bag and onto her arm, slowly moving it so it slithered on top of hers. His fingers twisting in around hers so he was holding her hand, so he was feeling the smooth skin of her palm.

"…Because," she whispered, her eyes traveling down to their holding hands, "because the way—"

"Oi, there you are, Potter," interrupting the corny reply that was surely going to escape Ariana's mouth, the Gryffindor was never happier to see that very famous blonde Slytherin turn the corner of the corridor. Making Al jump away from her and their clutch released.

"Erm...Hey, mate."

Furrowing his eyebrows at the two Third Years, Scorpius Malfoy frowned at the nervous state they both looked; especially the sickening pink tint to his sister's cheeks. "Why are you with the beast? I told you we had business to discuss before the lunch period is over, and I was not going to wait forever, Potter."

"I...wasn't with her," Al mumbled, clearing his throat and scratching his head as he took several steps away from the Gryffindor. "Obviously not. I was just asking her what Hannah Longbottom wanted to talk to her about. We've got to make sure we can operate with all those blabber-mouths keeping their mouth shut, eh?"

Scorpius still kept his gaze hard, turning away from his best mate to his sister. "Well?" He asked, almost with a tone of discomfort and annoying anger. "Get out of here, beast. I'm sure there's a table of lonely idiot-Gryffindors waiting for you."

Ariana frowned, that change in her heartbeat falling and lowering itself to a limp thumping filled with frustration.

"Move on, move on," her brother clapped, signaling her to walk away now.

"Gits," she hissed, disappointment growing in her chest as she glared at Al and stormed away from the two Slytherins.

Of course she was isolated, she was surrounded by idiots.

X

She was running—running incredibly fast.

"What do you even see in him?"

"What don't I see in him?" Dominique Weasley retorted in response to the question that was thrown at her. She spooned her mash-potatoes, looking quite bored as bright eyes stared at her in a quizzical manner. "He is really witty, charming, hysterical, sarcastic, slightly evil, dark-humor lover, knows how to break the rules—amazingly well, at that."

Glaring at the sadistic giggles that the curvy redhead was giving, Louis stabbed his steak as if he was trying to go past his plate and the table; his anger boiling in high levels.

"You're going to regret it, Dom," Rose Weasley, scooting aside to make room for the incoming friends and family, clucked her tongue disapprovingly at her cousin. "Erik Krum is a two-timing Slytherin. He has been with half of the girls in the castle, and the other half are still illegal in some ways for him or else he would have gone through them too. He can't settle down or commit to one person, what makes you think he'll do it for you?"

Dominique rolled her eyes. "I never said I wanted him as a husband, Rose," she scoffed, laughing mockingly at her cousin. "Honestly, you are one strange girl. Sometimes you're like an exact replica of my dear Aunt Pansy, and in others you are as tamed as Uncle Ron. Pick a damn side, Rose Weasley, you're giving me a bloody headache."

"—Oh, yes, Dom. Encourage Rose to be loose like you and soil the Weasley name further," barely arriving, and having had heard the nauseating part of the conversation, Fred Weasley frowned at his Uncle Bill's younger daughter as his twin snickered as she past by; high-fiving Dominique as she headed towards the Ravenclaw table to sit with Savanna Zabini. (He was going to have to report this to George, stat.) "How do you think Aunt Fleur will handle the news if the Headmistress owls her about your...impeccable house-unity methods?"

"Or what if Uncle Bill finds out?" James asked, snickering.

"Or—or—what if we just happen to send an owl to Teddy and tell him what his favorite little redhead is doing when he no longer is at school? Of how trashy she's gotten now that he's graduated?" Snap. "Oh, no wait. He doesn't care. He is in love with Victoire. Never mind, carry on throwing yourself at whoever wants you."

"What are you even doing here, Malfoy?" Dominique asked, her eyes furrowing at the teasing tone the blonde had spat out as he took a seat smoothly next to Rose; grinning wickedly as he casually threw an arm around her shoulder and she stiffened. Not budging under Dominique's lethal stare, knowing perfectly well that he was poking the wrong nerves. (But, oi, it's Scorpius. He doesn't necessarily care either.) "Slimy gits, alike you, sit at the Slytherin table. "

"Brilliant comeback, Dom," the blonde smiled dangerously, still sitting at the wrong house-table as though he owned it. Even as his best friends, Angelo and Al, sat along with him. "But we thought we'd join you lads for a family dinner. Believe it or not, we don't really get that at the Slytherin table."

"Unless you call it dinner if Lana McLaggen is eating an ice cream cone ever so slowly..."trailing off, Angelo Zabini shivered. "Every lick so painfully slow."

"—You pig." Arriving at the table, Ariana Malfoy frowned at the group of people in front of her. "Don't you see children are present?" She asked the tanned-skin Slytherin, pointing a finger at Peyton Weasley who smirked cheekily at the faces turning to him.

"Oi, he's a Slytherin!" Angelo defended is if that justified his crude comment, crossing his arms as he tried to make himself comfortable in the overcrowded table. "And once he is a Third Year, he'll get to value the delicious view that Lana is when she's a Seventh Year and fully developed."

Smack.

"Ow!"

"He's eleven, you thunderhead!" Rose hissed, aiming another smack at Zabini. "Corrupt my brother's mind and I will make sure you sleep with the underground flobberworms today."

Growing bored of the argument between the redhead Gryffindor and the Slytherin, Scorpius turned to his sister and said, "where have you been, Ana? A bit tardy for dinner, don't you think?"

Ariana frowned even more. (He just had to speak to her, huh? He just had to send her day to the dogs.) "Well, Scor, I had a very big lunch with all my loser, lonely, Gryffindor friends. We were all so incredibly stuffed, that we just had to go roam the halls like pathetic little kids and pray to Merlin we can be just like you."

(Wait, give it a second...)

"But then I vomited all over the corridor that Filch gave me detention. Not to worry, though. As soon as I explained to him the situation for my disgust, he cleared it on the spot. I mean, imagine if everyone was like you? Oh...ugh...Just the thought is making me sick again—"Slapping a hand over her mouth, Ariana feigned gagging noises. Puffing out her cheeks and attempting to look as if she was about to hurl all over the Gryffindor tabletop.

"—Ariana Malfoy."

Before Scorpius could even respond to his sweet little sister, Roxanne Weasley marched up to her house-table; Savanna Zabini right behind her.

Ariana's smug smirk at her brother's silence turned into a dim smile as she glanced up at the older girl. "Yes, Roxy?"

"McGonagall was on her way out of the Great Hall when she gave me this," with her shiny Prefect badge, Roxy handed the almost-brunette a tiny squared parchment. "She looked as if she was in a great hurry, so I assume she didn't have time to give it to you personally but that it was important."

"Oh, that's it, beast. You're done for it. The Headmistress is sending you back to live with the trolls."

"Shut up, Scorpius," hushing the blonde, Savanna walked up to his sister and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Well, go on. Open it. I'm bubbling with curiosity here. She seemed so hurried and frantic, I know the gossip must be good."

Raising her eyebrow at the Ravenclaw, Ariana shoved her a couple of inches back and unfolded the parchment:

An attack has been reported from Malfoy Manor.

Your mother and sister were visiting your grandparents when they were attacked.

The manor is destroyed. The condition of your relatives is yet to be declared. Auror Potter wished me to inform you about the recent news and suggested you remain clam. They'll try to send Trainee Lupin with news as soon as more is discovered.

Control yourself and your brother, Miss Malfoy.

-M.M.

Blinking her eyes as a pressure fell on her shoulders, Ariana looked up. Silence playing in her ears as the Weasley/Potter clan laughed among themselves, tossing the Zabinis in their jokes as everything slowed down.

Silver eyes met silver, both of the intense pair of eyes locking into each other. Ariana's began to fill with a painful glisten as she dropped the note, startling the other gray eyes into a look of bubbling worry as she let the parchment slip and fall onto the marbled ground as if it were deadly. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She couldn't hear or say anything. All she felt was the weight of the world falling on her; crushing her.

And then, she took off. Bolting out of the Great Hall as if the pressure of the place was going to suffocate her and the only oxygen was outside—somewhere far away.

Her lungs were hurting, the air no longer passing down to them as her chest heaved. She didn't know how long she was running, but she knew that she was pushing her limits. She always knew that Hogwarts castle was huge, but it seemed endless as she ran. It seemed like it stretched out and took up the entire world; a thought so deluded that she didn't know if that was the case or it was because her body was commanding her to stop.

But she couldn't.

If she stopped, she'd never get to where she needed to be. She'd never get that weight off of her, wouldn't be able to breathe normally again. She wouldn't be able to survive the internal battle that was going inside of her and in her mind. She would lose, and then all of those horrible thoughts would win.

As she ran, it felt like she was fighting a battle against herself, against that little evil voice in her head that told her that her grandparents—her mother—and Demetria were dead. A voice that chuckled deviously and told her to stop, they were all dead now and she was just exhausting herself for the greater emotional destruction that was approaching.

She was fighting those negative thoughts and she was losing, losing badly. She felt like her bones were being crushed, her heart stomped and paraded on.

It was no longer a battle, it was a massacre to what she held most dear.

Ariana Malfoy was a simple girl. She was sarcastic, defensive, family-oriented, loyal, true, honest, fair, loving when she felt open enough—and like every other normal girl, her family was the switch that kept her living. It was the one thing, her damn legacy that ran through her veins and kept her on her feet.

And now what? What was she supposed to do?

"—Where are you going little girl?" A drawling voice entered her hearing range as she burst into the Head Office, her chest heaving painfully as she tried sucking in all the air she was capable of.

"She left through here, didn't she?" Turning to the voice, Ariana clutched onto her sides as she kicked the Headmistress' chair out of her way. "She doesn't like to apparate. My...my m-mum told me..."

"You are the one who is supposed to keep her composure, Miss Malfoy," that hooked-nose, pale faced man inside one of the highest portraits of past Headmasters spoke. Looking at the girl unmoved with his coal-black eyes, sitting on his chair in the painting as if he was having tea and chatting casually . "If I still had the life and power, I'd take ten points from Gryffindor for such display of commotion."

"I don't care!" Ariana snapped. "I'll give you all the damn rubies if you want—now answer me!"

"Just like your father," Severus Snape smirked, still looking calm at the hectic mess the girl was in front of him. "Demanding and arrogant enough to think people operate your way."

With traitor tears, Ariana squeaked heartbreakingly, "Severus, please." Her voice was less demanding, but a strange kind of pleading. "My mother...my sister...please."

Erasing the smirk, the old Potions Master grunted at the Third Year. "St. Mungos, little girl."

Ariana nodded instantly, automatically. "Thank you."

"Don't," Snape cut in, silencing her as she grabbed a handful of powder on the right side of the fireplace. "She'll never allow you to come back in here if she finds out it was me who let you pass, Ariana."

"I'll send my regards with Al, then, Professor," with a trembling lip, Ariana tossed her Floo Powder into the fireplace. And with a burst of emerald flames, she was swallowed whole. Her destination still echoing off of the walls of the Head Office, startling an old man inside a portrait from his apparent-slumber.

"What's worse, Severus," blue, twinkling bespectacled eyes peered at the portrait across, letting the mocking gaze stare into the dark one of Severus Snape, "a Slytherin, for his undying nerve, or the complete bravery of a Gryffindor?"

Returning the stare with a blank expression, Snape settled himself more comfortably inside of his portrait. "Combined with Granger and Draco's genes, it's impossible to tell, Dumbledore. It's something that has never been seen before, and the outcome is going to be deadly."

And he was right, like always. The worst was yet to come for the Malfoy family.